


half light

by brookeluvsdogs



Category: Dunkirk (2017)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Gibson's Real Name Is Philippe Hugo Guillet, I dont know how to use ao3 lol, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-16
Updated: 2019-12-16
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:15:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21813544
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brookeluvsdogs/pseuds/brookeluvsdogs
Summary: Tommy had been stringing Philippe on for weeks now. Maybe not ‘stringing along’ so much as ‘unknowingly courting’. The word ‘date’ never so much as whispered, a million things left unsaid.
Relationships: Gibson/Tommy (Dunkirk)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 27
Collections: I guess we have something common.





	half light

Tommy had been stringing Philippe on for weeks now. Maybe not ‘stringing along’ so much as ‘unknowingly courting’. The word ‘date’ never so much as whispered, a million things left unsaid. 

Just last week they had walked through the park together; knuckles skimming, tender glances stolen (though never shared). Philippe had gone so far as to brush a floppy bit of Tommy’s too-long hair from his eyes. Tommy’s heart skipped a beat, all thoughts of getting a much-needed haircut out the window. 

A heavy fog had hung over the pair of them – not even they were oblivious to it now. Each waiting for the other to give confirmation (even though both had given well over the required amount). Neither brave enough to take the first step. 

Then Friday had happened. 

Philippe hadn’t shown up to lunch that day. It wasn’t like they had ever officially spoke about the fact they ate lunch together every single Friday, but Tommy was still a little put out by it. It put him in a slump for the rest of the day. He mumbled himself through classes and droning lectures, only to come home and be accosted by his flatmate. Alex was determined to get Tommy out of the house and, conveniently, there was a house party he’d be invited to. Or not invited too. Alex had a habit of just showing up. Tommy wasn’t sure people bothered to invite him anymore, they trusted he’d be there.

So, he let himself be dragged, hair unkempt, clothes thrown on without a thought. The method behind the lack of effort in appearance pinned on the fact Philippe hadn’t shown up to lunch and therefore he wouldn’t show up here – right?

Wrong. Tommy’s eyes fell on Philippe the second he stepped into the kitchen. Lit by the dim yellow kitchen light and looking completely bored with the conversation at hand. Tommy abandoned his plight to put drinks in the fridge to stop and stare. 

Tommy had always thought Philippe looked best in these half-lights; dim diners, footpath lamp-posts, night time drives. It complimented his aesthetic perfectly. These were the times Tommy couldn’t look away – it was a good thing Philippe was the only one who could drive. It had taken Tommy weeks to figure out the man’s eyes were a startling green instead of the almost-black he had assumed they were. They were a direct contrast to his dark curls and a credit to his sharp angles. The guy was all brooding dark coats and clunky boots. And, to top it all off, his voice was twisted with a smooth French accent – only ever spoken in a low tone. 

It filtered through now, Tommy’s brain highlighting the familiar voice. He said something mundane about a class he took and looked around the room, clearly not engaged in the topic. He was wearing an unusually casual green flannel. Had he taken the coat of at the door? Was this just how he dressed outside of cold winter uni days? Tommy watched as he scanned across the people in the living room and then came to a stop at Tommy. Without hesitation, Philippe ditched the group and made his way around the counter.

“Hi,” he said, stopping just short of the other man. 

“Hi,” Tommy replied. It came out slightly strangled, not as intended, out of breath. “I, uh, I didn’t think I would see you here.”

“I was hoping you’d be here, actually. That’s why I came.” 

Tommy blinked in surprise. Especially seeing as the only reason he had come was because he was certain that Philippe  _ wouldn’t  _ be there. Suddenly he felt very conscious of the way he looked. Hair still messy from his impromptu afternoon nap, the same jeans he had worn at least 4 days already this week. Alex had given him a disapproving glance as they left. Tommy hadn’t cared then. He did now. 

“Can we go somewhere quieter?” Philippe said when Tommy didn’t say anything – only stood there dumbly, mouth parted. 

He didn’t wait for an answer (Tommy probably wouldn’t have mustered a reply anyway). Instead, he took Tommy’s hand and pulled him through the crowded living room and up the stairs. Tommy tried to spot Alex as he was whizzed past but was forced to ditch his attempt to avoid tripping up the first step. 

Without the distraction of trying to find Alex, Tommy now focused on Philippe’s hand in his own. Or rather, his hand in Philippe’s. His hand was warm, he had noticed that Philippe always ran hot. He had given Tommy one of his broody coats on more than one occasion. 

Their fingers weren’t tangled but all Tommy could think was how easy it would be to fix that. It would only take a little twist and Tommy was dying to see how well their fingers would lock together. He didn’t dare though, only stared at their connected hands as Philippe led him into the first room he could find. He let go as he turned to close the door, the cool air hitting Tommy’s palm in an instant. 

They were in a bathroom. A rather large bathroom. Somewhere in the back of his head, Tommy wondered whose house this was. Alex hadn’t bothered to divulge that information. It hadn’t really mattered back when he didn’t care. ] 

After surveying the room, Tommy looked back to Philippe to find the brunette looking at him with an almost expectant gaze. Philippe had dragged  _ him  _ here – did he expect Tommy to speak? Because there was no way he had any idea of what to say. He tried to play it casual, despite the butterflies bouncing at his collarbones and flipping in his stomach. 

“What’s up?” It came out weak again. He just had to hope Philippe couldn’t hear the nerves in his voice. 

“Well, I was talking to Alex and he-,” Philippe stopped when he saw the twist in Tommy’s face. He laughed nervously, well aware of Tommy’s opinion that talking to Alex never came to much good. “No, no it’s not bad. He just thinks-”

He stopped again, this time to work out his next sentence. Tommy could see his minding ticking over the right words to say. Philippe ran a hand through those dark curls. One of the butterflies did a somersault. 

“Look, it doesn’t matter what Alex has to say,” he started again. He took a deep breath before he spoke again. “I like you Tommy, a lot.” 

Tommy’s stomach flipped again. And then again. And then once more as Philippe lifted his gaze to meet eyes. Internally, his brain and heart were racing a million miles a second – externally, Tommy had no idea what to do. Too many emotions bubbling in his chest, threatening to spill over. He opened his mouth as if to say something. Then closed it again when nothing came out. 

It was the most ideal outcome! Why couldn’t he force something to say! A simple ‘I like you too’ would suffice. But Tommy couldn’t get his brain to function. Not with Philippe standing so close, crowding him against the vanity. The thing in his chest bubbled into his throat and he broke into a grin and then into a fit of giggles. 

Philippe frowned at him, a little concerned, unsure whether Tommy was excited, about to reject him, or had simply gone insane. Tommy felt giddy; last day of high school giddy, first swim of the summer giddy, schoolgirl crush giddy. He found his words again and put poor Philippe out of his misery. 

“ **I guess we have something in common** ,” he laughed. 

Philippe’s furrowed brow smoothed out as his face lit up with a smile. A real, genuinely smile. A little lopsided, full of teeth, absolutely beautiful. He stepped forward at the same Tommy reached to link their hands again. This time, linking their fingers. Marveling at the way they tangled, as perfect as he had thought they would.

“Does this mean we can go on real dates?” Philippe laughed, squeezing Tommy’s hand. 

“Yeah, and we can do this too.” 

With a surge of new-found, giddy confidence - Tommy pulled Philippe’s hand so their bodies were pressed together. Tommy’s back hitting the counter gently. Then, without a moment’s hesitation he pressed his lips to Philippe’s. 

He’d never noticed how similar in height they were. He’d never given thought to how Philippe’s sharp features were a façade. Instead, his lips were soft, gentle, kind. And when Tommy reached his free hand to tangle his hand in Philippe’s hair, he found that was soft as well. There were a lot of things he hadn’t contemplated, now he had permission.

In this dim bathroom in an unfamiliar house, he felt like he was home with Philippe’s hand on his waist. 

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> the square bracket is in there for spice, don't even worry about it


End file.
